


dinner and diatribes

by mustachio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hydra (Marvel), Infinity War and End Game don't exist in this universe, Jewish Reader, Loki posing as another Tom Hiddleston character, Nazis, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: You're the live-in chef for the Avengers compound. Loki is a former super villain trying to make amends for the wrongs he's done in his life by begrudgingly working and living with the Avengers. While living in close proximity to one another, the two of you have managed to build up a friendship. So when the Avengers give Loki a mission he doesn't really want to go on, he jokingly tells them he'll only do it with you as a partner.As it turns out, the Avengers either have more faith than he would have expected in his desire to protect you or they aren't as concerned with the lives of civilians as they'd have everyone believe. And to make matters worse, you actually agree to go on the mission. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd have to watch over you while performing his duties as an Avenger, there's also a little detail about yourself that he has yet to find out that puts you at even greater risk than he'd initially anticipated.It's times like these that make him regret the whole 'trying to be a better person' thing, but maybe you'll make it worth it for him in the end.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	dinner and diatribes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals heavily with Nazis because Loki and the reader are going undercover at a Hydra function. If that is triggering for you, you may want to skip out on this fic. Antisemitism is something of a focus throughout because, well, Nazis, but I tried not to make anything too explicit because I'm Jewish and I didn't want to trigger myself while I wrote this; however, this is something that should probably be kept in mind before you start/while reading. That said, it took me about three months to write this and it's all because I love the plot device of Loki disguising himself as another one of Tom Hiddleston's characters so I hope you enjoy it! I may turn it into a full series following Loki and the chef reader depending on the feedback I get.

The chip in the polish of the long wooden meeting table you sat in was fascinating. 

Truly.

There were so many things to wonder about it: who did it, why did they do it, when did they do it?

Fascinating.

You picked at the damaged spot with the nail of your index finger.

“Seriously, you won’t even consider it?”

Or maybe the chipped polish just provided a convenient momentary distraction from the conversation you were trying very hard not to have right now.

Tony Stark sat across from you. He slouched in his cushy office chair, one arm propped up on the table, his face propped up on the hand attached to that arm. The beginnings of a frown graced his lips and his eyes were narrowed, though you couldn’t tell if he was glaring at you or just squinting. He didn’t look angry; just frustrated. Still, you weren’t an expert on reading people’s expressions. It’s not like you were a spy or anything. 

You were a chef. A damn good one, if you had anything to say about it, but still just a chef.

“Hello?” Tony drummed the fingers of his other hand on the table.

Whoops. There you went, distracting yourself again. You kept picking at the chipped polish, although this time you kept your eyes up.

“Look, I’ll pay you five times what you make working around here if you agree to do this,” he said.

“It isn’t about the money,” You huffed. “Aren’t there, like, ten Avengers now? Why can’t any of you do this? You’re all more qualified than I am. Hell, Natasha is _actually_ a spy isn’t she? Why not send her?”

“Because Loki won’t go with her,” Steve chimed in. He leaned over the table a bit, both palms resting flat on its surface. He’d been so quiet until now, you’d almost forgotten he was in the room. “He refuses to go with anyone except you.”

“Loki?” You asked. Your next blinks came faster in your confusion. “You’re sending Loki on a mission?”

“He wants to atone for New York, he’s gotta work for it,” Steve shrugged.

For his part, Tony looked a bit more irritated. Clearly not everyone was happy about this.

“Yeah, and so far he hasn’t put much work in at all,” he grumbled. “Jerk probably doesn’t want to atone for a damn thing.”

“You haven’t given him a chance, Tony. He’s under guard at all hours, he’s almost never allowed to leave the building, and you constantly remind him that you don’t trust him. Is he supposed to be willing to work with us like that?” Steve fumed. You wondered if he was even talking about Loki at all, or if there was a certain ex-Hydra assassin on his mind. As true as those things were for Loki, they were equally as true for Bucky. Steve turned his attention back to you. “I’m sorry we have to put this on you. Natasha was our first choice, but at this point her face is too well known. We decided to send Loki with her so he can use his illusions to hide their appearances, but he refused to go with anyone else.”

Pride bubbled up in your chest alongside the trepidation. The fact that you were the sole person to break through Loki’s shell so far made you feel special. You liked - _loved_ , your heart whispered - Loki now that he wasn’t trying to take over the world. He was funny, interesting, and not too hard on the eyes. Still, as much as you liked Loki, that didn’t change the fact that Avengers missions tended to be… unsafe.

“What are the chances I’ll die if I do this?” You asked.

“If Reindeer Games wants to atone for New York, he’ll keep you safe.” Tony said, unconcerned with your very real concern.

“Tony!” Steve glared at him. You sort of wished Steve would punch him. “As long as you guys keep your covers intact, you’ll be fine. This is just an information gathering mission.”

You were silent for a few moments. If Tony had anything more to add, the glaring match he was having with Steve kept him from saying it.

“I’ll do it,” You said. “But I’m taking the money, Tony.”

“Fine by me; I might even give you extra for taking that little weasel off my hands for a while.”

Steve set a manila envelope on the table in front of you. “The mission details are in here. You and Loki will be going to a private party hosted by a man suspected of funding upstart Hydra factions: Christoph Rohr. Everyone else in attendance will be people he’s trying to recruit or he’s already recruited. We want you two to get as much information about his operation as you can.”

“So we’ll be posing as wannabe Nazis?”

“You’ll be posing as a married couple Rohr has pegged as wannabe Nazis,” Steve said. “There’s a difference.”

“If we’re not wannabe Nazis, why did he peg us as wannabe Nazis?” You asked. Some act of divine mercy kept you from blushing at the idea of pretending to be married to Loki. You could sort your feelings out when you were alone; the wannabe Nazi thing was the important issue here.

“Listen, you are wannabe Nazis, you’re not wannabe Nazis, who cares,” Tony said, deciding that he’d been silent for long enough. “But everyone there is either a full blown Nazi or a wannabe Nazi and anyone who doesn’t like Nazis wasn’t invited so just keep that in mind when you decide on your cover story.”

“Look, you don’t like Nazis, I don’t like Nazis. No one in this building likes Nazis. Sometimes, to get anything done, you have to pretend to be a Nazi. This is one of those times. Can you do it?” Steve asked.

“You never have to pose as a Nazi. You just punch Nazis,” you pointed out.

“The next time we bring a Hydra Nazi in for questioning, I’ll let you punch the Nazi. Sound good?” Steve sighs.

“Brilliant,” you grin.

* * *

The mission started a week later. It would last a day and a half assuming everything went as planned. You prayed everything went as planned. Maybe even better than planned if it got you out of there sooner. 

Someone knocked on your door just as you put on your last bit of jewelry. You took a deep breath before answering.

On the other side of the door was a man you didn’t recognize. Not at first, anyway. In place of long, curly, black hair was short, blond hair that just started to curl at the tips where the product he put in couldn’t quite hold it back. The angles of his face seemed softer. There was a look to him that seemed to say that he was happier; less worn out by the stresses of his life. The suit was new, too, although you suspected that was less part of the disguise and more because Loki seemed to be the sort of person who never wore the same suit twice. His eyes were the same blue they always were.

And that smile. The one that always seemed to hold a thousand secrets in its curve. The one that both laughed at and with you whenever it appeared. You knew that smile anywhere. You knew just one person who had a smile like that.

“Well, how do I look?” Loki asks, spreading his arms wide. He turned to give you the full view of his disguise. 

“I miss the long hair, but Laing doesn't look half bad,” you joked.

Robert Laing was Loki’s new identity for the next thirty six hours. Laing was a physiologist working at a medical school in London. You were his wife, a chef for the catering company employed by his school. Not too far off from the truth of your job. The two of you met while you were working at the school's staff Christmas party and you've been in love ever since. You recently moved to New York. A few weeks ago one of Laing's coworkers from London happened to mention one of Rohr’s events; one thing led to another, now you were about to attend one of Rohr's parties. Because you were a wannabe Nazi. Or at least that was the story you were going with. The true story of the invitation’s acquisition was a mystery to you. 

Why did you agree to do this again?

Loki's smile grew predatory as he looked you over. You wore a forest green evening gown that shimmered with tiny gold flecks across the whole thing. The front of your hair was braided together to form a sort of crown while the rest fell down your back in tight curls. A thin gold chain with a single pearl hung around your neck and a simple gold band sat on your ring finger to match the one Loki wore.

"Mrs. Laing looks rather ravishing herself. I may have to keep you when we're through with this,” Loki said.

"If I knew all it took to catch your attention was putting on a fancy dress, I might have done it earlier," you hoped the heat gathering at the tips of your ears wasn't indicative of a blush on your cheeks.

"I assure you, my attention was caught long before now. The dress assures me that I was right to give it to you," he held an arm out for you. "Shall we?"

* * *

Your anxiety held itself at bay for the first fifteen minutes of the drive to your destination.

You were rereading the file Steve had given you; you’d read it a thousand times before by that point. Still, it didn’t feel like enough. But in the moment between finishing one page and beginning the next your mind wandered to a fragile little star hanging on an equally fragile chain in a bedside drawer.

After that the dam breaks.

Well, maybe it cracked. Or maybe it didn't matter what the damage to that metaphorical dam was. Maybe all that mattered was you dropping the file to the floor of the car and your shaky hand that matched your shaky breath and the tear that rolled down your cheek.

You felt sick.

Loki looked up from his own book just in time to see the tear before it soaked into the fabric of your dress.

"Are you crying?" He asked, shocked and perhaps a bit incredulous at your sudden onslaught of emotions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said, wiping away the tears. You had to muster all of your willpower to keep more from falling. By some miracle, it was enough. Sort of. The tears dried up, leaving a lump in your throat that you struggled to swallow around in their place. “This is just a lot more than I signed up for when Tony hired my little catering company to feed the compound, y’know? I guess I’m just overwhelmed,” you prayed he wouldn't push for more. 

Then you prayed that maybe he'd just read your mind - he could do that, right? - so that he knew what was going on with you without you having to say anything. Because you wanted him to know. If you were to be partners on this mission, if you were to be friends outside of this mission… well, he deserved to know, didn't he? He did. But the place your emotions came from was too deep to summon the words from. 

You met Loki's gaze. He looked at you with an intense curiosity that made you uncomfortable. You looked away again, this time setting your sight on what was in front of you. It felt like minutes passed in silence. Minutes of staring out the windshield counting every tree, reading every license plate; minutes of doing anything to avoid thinking about your fears. In reality it had been seconds.

"I would never have mentioned you if I believed those sorry excuses for heroes would allow a civilian to come on this mission," Loki said. His voice had a hard edge to it. He picked at the skin of his palm.

"I'm not blaming you," you said. You still refused to look at him. "I could've said no. I just… I guess I didn't think about what I was saying yes to."

"What did you think you were saying yes to?"

"Well, Steve offered to let me punch the next Hydra Nazi taken into Avengers custody. Tony offered me money. Enough to pay all my bills for like… three months? So I was thinking of those things,” 

In a moment of boldness you added: “Pretending to be your wife sounded pretty fun, too.”

Oh, there was that predatory grin of Loki’s again. Just as menacing on Laing's face as it was on Loki's. He scooted closer so that your thighs were pressed together. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Your cheeks burned.

"You were faced with something that terrified you, and chose to go along with it because being my wife sounded fun? Oh, I _will_ be keeping you when this is over."

His arm tightened around you, like he was already keeping you even though the mission hadn’t even begun. In a way, you supposed that at least tonight, whether anything changed between the two of you later on, you _were_ his for the keeping. Well, really, you were Laing’s, but Laing was just a cover for Loki so it was the same as being Loki’s, right? 

You jabbed a finger into his ribs and huffed, “It wasn’t _just_ that. And, anyway, I said _pretending_ might be fun.”

And then you leaned into him, face buried in his chest. This was the closest you’d ever come to outright telling Loki you were kinda sorta in love with him. As embarrassed as you were, you didn’t regret it. The comfort you got out of this man was strange; he’d almost destroyed New York for the purpose of taking over the world, his very existence threatened to invalidate large parts of your belief system. Yet the thought of not having him around terrified you more than any of that. 

Loki’s fingers skimmed across the bare skin of your shoulder. His breath ruffled the top of your hair as he leaned in. 

“I will not allow any harm to come to you," he murmured.

You looked up at him with wide eyes and, in your most serious voice, you said, "Loki, I don't think anyone is going to ask your permission before hurting me."

"What a cheeky little wife I have," Loki pinched your side. You squealed, squirming away from his prodding fingers. "Whatever will I do with you?"

" _Pretend_ wife," you reminded him, settling back into his side once he stopped trying to pinch you.

"For now," he said.

The tops of your ears went hot, "You can't just _say_ things like that. You're the God of Lies, remember? How am I supposed to know if you're being serious or if you're just messing with me?"

"You don't believe that I am a god, do you?" 

"Even if I don't believe you're a god, there's got to be a reason people call you that," you shrugged. Some of the good mood you'd started to feel died down again. Joking around with Loki had done wonders to take your mind off of your fears, but this particular topic brought the negativity simmering to the surface again. 

What if Loki was just messing with you? Were you about to enter a party full of Nazis for someone who didn't care as much as he made it seem?

Your vision went blurry. Dread clawed at your stomach. Shame welled up in your chest. Shame at what, though? At getting so worked up over your own fears? Or was it the fears themselves? The thought that maybe Loki was living up to his title; that going on this mission would be more dangerous than you had been told, was that what shamed you? There was an awareness somewhere in the back of your mind that allowing your thoughts to spiral like this was a very bad idea. The problem was, you didn’t know how to make them stop. You were never very good at handling anxiety at the best of times, and half an hour away from stepping foot into a group of Nazis was not one of the best of times. What were you supposed to—

“Stop,” Loki grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. His grip was firm enough that moving away was impossible. The tips of his fingers glowed on your skin. His magic was warm and traveled through your body, calming the physical symptoms of your anxiety down before you worked yourself up any further. “Stop,” he said again, softer this time. “Whatever lies I may have told in the past, whatever reputation for lies I may have, I am not lying to you now.”

You took a shaky breath. Muttered, "You might be lying about that."

"I'm not," he moved his hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. "Consider the fact that the man who bestowed that title on me was the same man who lied to me my entire life about my true parentage. Then consider how much weight you want to give that title of mine."

Loki grinned. It wasn't the predatory one this time. It was softer, more sincere. On Laing's face it didn't provide the intended comfort. It was nonsensical, you knew that; Laing's face was almost no different from Loki's usual face. A few minor differences, but to anyone who knew him, it was undeniable that this was Loki. You wanted your real friend, not your fake husband.

"Can you turn back into yourself until we get there?" You asked.

Green light washed over him. When it faded, Laing had been replaced by Loki. “Better?”

You nodded. You stared at him, using his familiar features to center yourself. He held your gaze. He continued to lazily stroke across your cheek until you closed your eyes. You took a deep, steadying breath.

“Better,” you sighed on the exhale.

The rest of the drive was calmer after that. Loki kept you talking, which kept you from focusing on any triggering topics. He told you about the current goings on of New Asgard (some sort of land dispute between New Asgard and the Norwegian government was the big news there right now). You told him about your idea to start a vlog to make a little extra cash (you wanted to do a series where you would teach the Avengers your favorite recipes and they would teach you theirs). By the time the car pulled up to your destination, you felt confident enough that you could, at least, walk into the building without bursting into tears. 

You moved to open the door, but Loki grabbed your hand before you reached the handle. When you looked back at him, Laing had returned. He was no longer smiling. Dread threatened to bubble up to ruin all the progress Loki helped you make in moving past your fear.

"Once we are in there, do not speak to anyone unless I am at your side. Do not leave my side unless it is necessary and do not go digging for information," he said. His tone left no room for argument.

"How am I supposed to help you with the mission if I can't dig for information? That's the point of us being here," you argued anyway.

Loki lifted his other hand. The tips of his fingers were glowing with magic again.

"I need only touch them to look inside their minds. I will not have you risk yourself more than you already have by being here when I can accomplish our mission so easily."

"Alright," you gave in. It wasn't as though you wanted to spend much time socializing with the Nazis. If Loki was giving you a way out of it, you weren't going to put up too much of an argument.

The party was in an upscale hotel, one much too expensive for you to ever stay in under normal circumstances. Everything looked too fragile and pristine. It set your teeth on edge. There seemed to be hundreds of people in attendance. You made a mental note to talk to Steve about what he considered a “private” affair. Your heart rate picked up. Loki's hand went to the small of your back to rub light, calming circles into your skin through the fabric of your dress. 

"Enjoy your evening," the doorman said, drawing your attention away from the throngs of people. He handed the invitation back to Loki, who led you further into the ballroom with his arm still around your waist. 

A string quartet playing covers of modern pop songs was seated towards the back of the room. A few people had taken to the dance floor; most were seated at tables placed along the edges. There were no signs that this was a party filled with Nazis. If you tried hard enough, you thought you might be able to forget about that. Buffet tables lined the side walls and a sizable bar was set in the corner at the end of one of the tables. Loki steered you in the direction of the bar. There was a stage with a podium at the front of the dance floor, although it was unoccupied at that moment.

“I’m not a huge fan of alcohol,” you protested.

“Tonight you will be,” Loki said. “I struggle to see how we’ll accomplish anything beyond getting discovered if you don’t loosen up.”

It was best for both of you if you didn’t dwell on the idea of blowing your cover. You looked around the room. “Where should we sit?”

“You can sit with us,” a voice said from behind you. 

It was Loki’s arm that kept you from jumping ten feet in the air. You both turned. An older man who looked to be in his late 70s with thin gray hair and large jowls smiled at you. There was nothing outright sinister about his smile, but something about it made your skin crawl. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that this person was a Nazi. 

Yeah, that was it.

“Peter Woodard,” the man held his hand out for a shake. “I haven’t seen you two here before. Are you some of Chris’ new friends?”

“Robert Laing,” Loki - no, Robert; you needed to start thinking of him with that name to avoid a slip up - shook Peter’s hand with a dazzling grin that showed off his pearly whites. “And this is my wife, Charlotte." Apparently you were getting a fake name, too. "We’re certainly hoping to be his new friends by the end of the night.”

“Ah, well, I’m afraid Chris tends not to mingle on the first night. He feels its best not to waste energy on those who can’t even commit a full twenty four hours to the cause. You’ll get the chance to speak to him at tomorrow morning’s events, though. From the sounds of it, you’re not from around here. What brings you to the area?”

“You’re quite right that I’m not from around here. Charlotte grew up nearby. After a few years together in London, we decided to move here to be closer to her family.”

Until that moment you had been standing about half a step behind Loki - no, Robert; dammit you needed to get that right - to keep the attention off of you. But Robert nudged you forward so that you were nestled at his side while he talked about you. Alcohol was starting to sound nice right then.

“Well, you made a good choice. It’s a nice neighborhood we’ve got here; there’s not too many liberals in this neck of the woods,” Peter said. He gestured to a table on the opposite side of the room. “My own wife is waiting for me over there, so I’ll let you get your drinks. Do feel free to sit with us; I’d love to get to know the both of you better.”

As he walked away, you turned back to the bar. Loki's arm slid from your waist. He twined his fingers through yours, careful to always be touching you; to be right there to pull you back if you got lost in your own head. He leaned in towards you, nose pressed into your hair with his lips just brushing the tip of your ear. To anyone who looked at the two of you, it was just a husband giving a bit of affection to his wife.

"He is a close friend of Rohr's, but his involvement with Hydra is minimal. I suspect we won't learn more than we already know from him, however... " he whispered, trailing off at the end. Still, you knew what he was getting at.

"Sticking with him might lead us right to the man who knows everything," you turned your head so your noses brushed together. One wrong - or right? - movement and the two of you would have been kissing.

"Exactly," he took your free hand in his; both of your hands were now joined with his. "If interacting with them is more than you can handle, I will not force you. I am certain I can obtain enough information to satisfy the Avengers through others."

"You said you would protect me. I trust you" you said. 

"Earlier you were convinced I would only lie to you,"

The bartender cleared her throat before you answered. You looked at her to find her looking down at the counter. She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the display of affection the two of you put on. Loki ordered for you; the drink was something fruity and sweet. Before you headed to the table, you raided the buffet. The buffet made up for the near panic attack you had in the car. Like the hotel, some of the foods were far too expensive to ever be available to you. Even of the foods you were familiar with, the ingredients were of a much higher quality than you could ever hope to match in your own cooking, both personal and professional.

By the time you finished raiding the buffet, you had two plates piled high with food. Getting back to the table without anything falling required Loki to take his hands off of you. It was an unfortunate loss, but one you considered worth it.

"Glad you decided to join us!" Peter said as you approached the table. He put his arm around the woman sitting next to him. "This is my wife, Ilene."

"Nice to meet you," you said. Food made you feel more confident. It was something you knew well. It was something you enjoyed. So while food was in front of you, it was much easier to force yourself to speak to these people.

Ilene gave you an odd look. For a moment she seemed to be squinting at you. When that moment passed her eyes went wide. That made the tight lipped smile she gave you all the more awkward. She said nothing, even when she nodded to acknowledge that you had spoken. 

You shoved a forkful of food into your mouth. That small interaction took what little wind you had right out of your sails. Loki - you cursed a bit in your head to realize you still hadn't managed to start thinking of him as Robert - took your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers under the table. You wished you could ask him what he thought of that exchange. Had you done something wrong? Did you somehow blow your cover already? You supposed she could have been taken aback by the amount of food you had in front of you, but it had seemed like her focus was on your face. You squeezed Loki's hand a bit tighter. 

Ilene continued to stare at you with that same tight lipped smile.

"How did the two of you hear about Chris’ little venture?” Peter asked, either oblivious to or ignoring his wife’s discomfort.

“A colleague of mine back in London was invited to one of these parties awhile back. When he heard we’d moved to the area, he arranged for our invitation. He thought it would be a good way to meet some… like-minded people,” Loki winked. It was unfair how attractive he was even while implying that the two of you were Nazis looking for other Nazi friends. 

"Your colleague wasn’t wrong. Chris would never have allowed you to receive an invitation if you didn’t share the viewpoints of everyone here. Even if you don’t leave here as a formal member of the organization, you’re certain to have made quite a few like-minded friends,” Peter said.

You took a sip of your drink to cover your laugh. Chris needed to reevaluate his invitee screening system if the Avengers were considered “like-minded friends” to Hydra. Loki let go of your hand to pinch your thigh. If it weren’t for the fact that you had an audience, you would have stuck your tongue out at him. Instead, you peered up over your cup to make sure no one thought your behavior was strange.

Ilene was still staring at you.

You took a bigger gulp of your drink.

The conversation was normal after that. No talk about Nazi subjects or anything that made you feel too awkward. For the most part, it was just the typical sort of conversation for two adult couples trying to get to know each other. Loki talked about being a physiologist and teacher, you added a comment or two about your catering business, and Peter talked about the construction company he owned. Ilene said very little; she nodded or faked a laugh at something her husband said. Most of the time she kept her eyes glued to her plate, except when she gave you more wide eyed stares. You were somewhat grateful that Peter had heard you asking Loki about seating arrangements. You were still all too aware that these were Nazis sitting across from you, but Peter’s lack of involvement with Hydra ensured that the organization didn’t come up very often. Even when some of the other people sitting at your table chimed in, the topic of Hydra never came up. You guessed this was the “non-Hydra Nazi friends of Christoph Rohr” table.

Part of you felt like this was somehow cheating. You weren’t doing much in furtherance of the mission you’d been sent on by not talking about Hydra at all. But Loki was the real Avenger; if he thought talking to Peter with the hope he would lead the two of you straight to Rohr satisfied the mission goal, well, who were you to argue?

You allowed yourself to become distracted by the activity around you after a while of utterly normal conversation. Each table seemed to be doing pretty much the same as your table. A few seemed to be having more serious discussions than the majority. You assumed those were the people getting down to Nazi business and making all of their Nazi plans. Some people seemed to be making rounds around the room; introducing themselves to everyone they thought was important, ensuring their name was known by all the important Hydra people in the room. More people were on the dance floor by then. You wondered if Loki would want to dance.

By the stage, some people seemed to be shuffling around with sound equipment. A tall, blond man stood on the stage. He watched with a frown as the people on the floor set everything up. There was a microphone in his hand.

“That’s Chris,” Peter said, drawing your attention back to the table. “Looks like it’s just about time for his speech. You’ll love it; he’s one of the best speakers I’ve ever known.”

You nodded. Loki rubbed a hand along your back. A surge of warmth flowed through you as his hand moved; the same magic he’d used to keep you calm in the car, you thought. It was a good thing, too. There was no way Rohr himself would minimize Nazi talk in his speech to his fellow Nazis. Better that Loki helped keep your anxiety to a minimum before it had the chance to get started.

Even without the physical symptoms of your anxiety, though, Loki couldn’t stop your brain from moving a mile a minute. How would you react to the speech? What if he said something you couldn’t just ignore? Were you going to blow your cover because you couldn’t act? If you did blow your cover, what would the Avengers think of you? Would you be able to face them at work again? More than what the Avengers in general thought, what would _Loki_ think if you blew the mission because you couldn’t keep your emotions in check?

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you forgot to pay attention to the world around you. So when Loki pulled your chair closer to his own to hold you against his chest, you jumped.

“Relax,” he whispered into your hair.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting them sit against your stomach. You did your best to relax against him. He gave a small hum of approval.

Was this normal Asgardian behavior? You knew for a fact that even for a married couple like you were pretending to be, it wasn’t normal to get this affectionate in public. Or maybe it was just a Loki specific behavior. You forced yourself to ignore the other people at the table to ensure your blushing was kept to a minimum. Maybe this wasn’t normal behavior, but there was no denying that it gave you something to focus on that wasn’t the impending Nazi speech.

"Thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to me and all of the fine people who helped me organize this event to see you," Rohr said. "You were all invited here for a purpose: to bring the world back to where it should be. You all understand what the world needs to prosper!"

You swallowed hard around a lump in your throat. You fought the urge to close your eyes and block out the rest of the speech. That speech was the main event of the night. It would have been noticed if you stopped paying attention. Loki tightens his arms around you. You were thankful for it. The sensation of his touch gave you something else to focus on. You squeezed his hands; a gesture to show your appreciation.

Overall, the speech was uninformative as far as your mission went; it seemed to be aimed at inflaming emotions rather than calling the audience to a specific action. He likely saved the calls to action for tomorrow, when the real recruitment began. Still, by the end you felt like crawling out of your skin. The whole speech was filled with Nazi dogwhistles; talk of needing to embrace tradition and turn away from modernity, claims that a certain group of people were secretly controlling the world through the banks and funding the spread of communism.

Peter was very wrong. You did not love hearing Rohr speak. It was a miracle that you didn't vomit halfway through the speech. You felt shaky, although you weren't certain if you were shaking. Something felt like it was crawling around in your stomach. You wanted to beg Loki to get you out of there, to not make you go back even if it meant the mission was a failure. Just as you began to turn around to act on that desire, the music started up again. Loki pulled you up toward the dance floor. 

"I'd like to dance with my wife at least once before we leave," Loki said.

"O-okay," you stuttered. His grip was so firm you had to let Loki drag you across the room. The sudden desire to dance baffled you. Sure, you had wondered if he might want to, but until that moment he hadn't given any indication that he did. 

You turned your head to see if the Woodards had any reaction to Loki’s strange behavior. What had you expected of them? You weren't quite sure; a look of confusion, an aborted attempt to speak to the two of you as you walked away, maybe, just something that indicated they were as surprised as you. Yet when you looked back their attention was still directed towards the stage. Even Ilene, who had made such a point of staring at you all night, was no longer watching you. Stranger still, they seemed… cheery. 

A hand shot out to grab your chin. The hand yanked to get you to look forward. On instinct, you tensed up to resist, but Loki was stronger. All you got for your effort was a jolt of pain up your neck.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he demanded. A smarter person may have heard the imperiousness in his tone and ceded to his directions. You were not that person. You stood a little straighter, and shoved at his hands.

“You know, a gentleman would ask his wife to dance instead of— ” The problem with Loki, you came to realize, was that although he tended to say things in a way that triggered a person’s fight or flight response, the substance of what he said generally had merit. This was, of course, the case in that moment. As you fought against his command, you turned your head once again to look back at the table. Not because you thought looking accomplished anything; more because Loki told you not to. 

“Would my wife care to dance, or shall we break bread with Christoph Rohr himself?” Loki kept his voice remarkably neutral. You’d expected more of a mocking tone.

You turned away from the sight of the night’s head Nazi standing at the table you had just been sitting at. Loki took your hands in his again, pulling you the rest of the way onto the dance floor. Your brain felt numb. Your heart felt numb. How close had you come to having to speak to someone who just gave a speech about how the world would be better off without the very group of people you belonged to? From somewhere outside of your own body, you felt Loki adjusting your position to one appropriate for dancing.

Dancing.

How could you dance among these people; these people who believed in the ideals and words espoused here tonight? 

“Stay with me,” Loki murmured. His touch was soft. It helped to reground you in the moment. He kept his thumb and index finger on your chin so that you looked nowhere except for his eyes.

You nodded, swallowing around the dry feeling that had overtaken your mouth by that point. Following that instruction would be easier said than done, but you tried. Loki looked at you for a moment. Then he dropped his hand from your chin to rearrange your position once more. When he was done, you stood slightly diagonal to him, so that your left shoulder was parallel to his. The corresponding arms were held at ninety degree angles with your hands pressed together, palm to palm.

"I might step on your toes," you said.

"Have you forgotten that your husband is a god, darling?" he asked. He nudged your hand to indicate the direction he wanted you to step. "You may step on me all you like, it won't hurt. This will not be a complicated dance, simply one to keep your mind off of more unpleasant things."

The dance was slow. Throughout it, Loki kept you pressed close even when you were certain the dance would be easier with more space between you. The warmth of his hands made you feel secure so you said nothing about your suspicions. 

"When did you learn to dance?" You asked as he twirled you under his arm. 

"I was raised as a prince of Asgard," he said, his exhale coming out as a small laugh. When you were facing him once again, he dipped you low, and brought you back up slowly. His arms remained firm around you the whole time. 

"I forget about that," you said. 

You fell silent for the rest of the dance. If Loki noticed your mind wandering back to the table, or to the circumstances of the night, he whispered "stay with me," and when his eyes shined with such brilliant intensity, you couldn’t fathom doing anything else. 

When the song ended, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His hands fell to your hips, where his thumbs rubbed small circles through the fabric of your dress.

"Our companions for the night seem to have left," he whispered. "Shall we make our own exit now? See what expensive accommodations Stark so generously arranged for us tonight?"

"That sounds wonderful."

* * *

_ What. The. Hell _ , you thought.

The room was ridiculous. In fact, calling it a room was a complete lie. With two bathrooms, a kitchen, a combined dining and living room, and the bedroom there were more rooms in this suite than there were in your apartment.

Loki watched you from the position he'd taken up on the couch. His feet were up on the coffee table; his arms were draped over the back of the couch. He seemed comfortable in the space you'd been given for the night; maybe even a little bored. He still wore the face of Robert Laing. You paid him little attention. From one room to another, you paced. You paused to open a door tucked away in the corner of the room ‐ oh, look!  _ A half-bath _ was hidden behind that door! 

"We're only staying here for one night!" You yelled. You stormed back into the living room to jab your finger in Loki's direction. "Why aren't you more concerned about Tony renting us a whole apartment for one night?"

"If the size of these rooms concern you, it is for the best that Asgard was destroyed before I could whisk you away to my chambers in the palace for our wedding night."

The wicked grin on his face brought your pacing to a grinding halt. For a moment you'd forgotten about the whole fake-marriage-that-Loki-claimed-he-was-going-to-make-real thing. Your hand fell back to your side and your face went hot.

"The Laings' wedding night was like… three years ago," you muttered.

When you looked up again, Loki was standing mere inches away. "Hmm… I'm afraid I don't recall that night. Perhaps Mrs. Laing would refresh my memory?"

You slapped your hands over your face so you wouldn't have to see that glint in Loki's eyes. What were you even supposed to say to something like that? He tugged on a lock of your hair to get you to look back up at him. His grin was still in place. The blush on your cheeks grew ever deeper just from looking at it.

"Is my little wife embarrassed?" He asked, although  _ taunted _ was perhaps a better word for it.

"Y'know, if you're really set on making the whole wife thing  _ real _ , I'd prefer if you took me on a date first," you said, adding "one without Nazis, preferably" for good measure.

He laughed. Green light shimmered across his body, wiping away the Laing facade so that the real Loki stood before you. "Just as well; I would prefer to court you properly, as a prince of Asgard, and the rightful king of Jotunheim than a simple mortal doctor."

You groaned. Sometimes he was just so… so  _ Loki _ it was overwhelming. 

“Whatever you say,  _ Your Majesty _ ,” you bowed, with a great flourish of your hands. “I feel dirty from rubbing elbows with those guys tonight. I think I’m going to take advantage of the giant bathtub before bed. What are you gonna do with the rest of your night?”

“I could keep you company in the bath,” he teased.

_ Fucking hell _ , you thought.  _ He’s going to be the death of me _ .

Except… when you took a moment to think about it, the idea didn’t seem all that bad. You knew he expected you to say no; knew that he was making a flirtatious joke rather than a genuine offer. Yet, the anxiety from the night still lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of being alone left you feeling ill at ease. You knew he wouldn’t retract the offer if you did say yes.

So, squaring your shoulders and doing your best to make eye contact, you said, “I wouldn’t mind the company if you really wanted to join me.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes widened; just a bit, just enough to be noticeable. For a moment, he said nothing. Waiting for you to retract, you supposed. But when you didn’t his expression relaxed. His God of Mischief grin returned and he motioned with one hand in the direction of the bathroom that held the tub. 

“After you, my dear.”

The bathroom, despite it’s absurd size for being a hotel suite bathroom, was normal. By which you meant there were no unrecognizable gadgets only rich people would recognize because they were the only ones who could afford to have them in their bathrooms. In fact, despite the fact that this bathroom was twice the size of the one you had at home, there was very little in it beyond the tub (which took up half the room), the toilet, and the sink. The whole room was made of expensive looking marble, probably so you wouldn’t forget that this was a space meant for the super rich people of the world.

“Do you need help with your dress?” Loki asked.

You stared at him.  _ Did you need help with your dress? _ You looked down at yourself. Was there something on your dress? You looked back up at him. He seemed mildly amused and gestured to his back.

“The zipper,” he said by way of explanation.

You narrowed your eyes. Not another word left your mouth before he raised his hands in surrender.

“Peace. I will only do what is asked of me tonight.”

"Alright…" you nodded, turning your back to him so he could unzip you.

His hands were gentle. The dress dropped from your shoulders to pool around your ankles. For a moment, Loki's hands lingered on the bare skin of your back; he trailed his fingers up to the clasp of your bra. This, too, he undid. It occurred to you, fleetingly, that he'd technically just broken his promise. You hadn't  _ asked _ for him to unhook your bra, even if it was the logical next step in getting ready for a bath.

You chose not to mention it.

A rustling from behind you drew your attention. When you turned around, you found Loki undressing himself. His suit jacket and tie were already on the floor next to your dress, and he was making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

_ Oh no _ .

What was he  _ doing _ ? What happened to not doing anything you didn't ask him to do? You supposed he had offered to keep you company in the bath, not just the bath _ room _ , but somehow it never occurred to you that he actually would plan on bathing with you. You opened your mouth to say something to him; to stop him, maybe. Except, inconveniently, you found that your vocal cords had stopped working. Your eyes followed his hands as they opened his shirt. 

“You’re drooling,” Loki said, forcing your attention back up to his face.

You slammed your mouth shut; with less discretion than you would have liked, you wiped at your mouth to get rid of any drool you may have actually let slip while you were staring. 

“I didn’t think you were going to get naked, too,” you muttered. 

“Did you think I was going to get into the tub fully clothed?” 

A small smile adorned his face and one eyebrow was arched up. You supposed the expression was meant to show you that although you confused him, he bore you no ill will for it. It should have comforted you, you thought. Instead, a niggling sense of dread gnawed at your stomach. It must have shown on your face, too, because Loki's expression soon became more serious.

"I can read you thoughts, if I must," he said. "But I have learned that open communication makes things much easier."

You shrugged. He sighed. There was silence. Then, Loki spoke up again: 

“What do you want from tonight?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? 

_ What did you want from the night? _

You voiced your thoughts as they came to you, “I wanted to feel useful to the Avengers for more than just my cooking. I wanted the money Tony offered me. I wanted to impress you and be more than just the girl you sometimes spend time with because I cook for you and I'm not an Avenger.”

Loki held his hand up, a signal for you to stop talking. You did.

“I do not spend time with you because you cook for me. All my life I’ve had others cook for me; never did I say more than a passing word or two to them. I speak to you because you interest me. I will admit your lack of membership on the team that formed for the specific purpose of defeating me  _ is _ a remarkable boon to our relationship; however, I would not associate with just any mortal simply because they are not an Avenger. And while I appreciate hearing what you intended from the night as a whole, I meant what do you want from the night going forward—while we are standing here in the bathroom, in particular.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” you shrugged. It occurred to you that this still wasn’t really an answer to his question so you amended, “I want to be with you.”

“In the bath?” 

“In general,” you shrugged again. “I’ve never done something like this; taken a bath with someone else, I mean.”

Loki stared at you for a long moment. His expression seemed to lack any indication of amusement now. A spark of panic flickered in your chest. Was your indecisiveness annoying him? 

“I  _ would  _ like to see you naked,” you blurted out. It was… not your finest moment. Standing there in nothing but a pair of pink polka dotted cotton panties and all of your jewelry, having just admitted to wanting to see Loki naked in an impulsive attempt to dispel the annoyance you weren't even certain he was feeling—yeah, definitely not your finest moment.

Loki blinked at you. He blinked again. And just when you were feeling certain you would die of embarrassment, he laughed. And laughed. And then he laughed some more. And as he laughed he finished stripping his shirt off. Something tense and painful broke inside of you, then, as you watched him laugh. It seeped out of you until there was nothing left of it inside of you, replaced by the infectiousness of Loki’s laughter and your own relief that he wasn’t annoyed. So you laughed, too, and even your embarrassment stood no chance against the force of it. The whiplash of your emotions changing so quickly throughout the night was certain to leave you sore later on, but you cared nothing about it at that moment. There was only you, Loki, and your laughter.

When he tucked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his pants, he paused.

“Together?” He asked between huffs of laughter. 

You mirrored his pose, thumbs tucked into the waistband of your underwear.

“On the count of three?” You asked.

“One,” he said, by way of an answer.

“Two,” you continued.

“Three,” the two of you said together.

In one fell swoop, Loki’s pants and briefs were discarded in a pile on the floor along with your underwear. You grinned at each other as you both drank in the sight of the other completely nude. You had expected to feel awkward in this situation. You were relieved to find that, in reality, you felt nothing more than happiness; happiness that wasn’t even entirely related to the fact that Loki looked just as good out of a suit as he did in it. It was happiness that there was someone in the world whose very presence managed to distract you from your fears and anxieties and made you feel strong enough to say what you were thinking without considering the potential embarrassment first.

You removed your earrings and necklace, throwing them onto the sink counter, uncaring of where they landed. Loki took your hand and removed the ring himself, so you did the same to his. He took them both, spiriting them away to one of his pocket dimensions for purposes only he was privy to. Perhaps he intended to use them for the real wedding he was planning on; incorporate some of the false marriage into the real. You supposed you would find out eventually.

You turned to the tub, but found that while the two of you had been lost in the whirlwind of your emotions, you completely forgot to run the water for your bath.

"Oops," you giggled.

Loki, however, was unconcerned with this development. Waving his arms about, green smoke and lights began flashing in the tub. The sound of rushing water came from beyond the theatrics, and when those theatrics faded, the tub was filled with water. He got in and as you watched him you became very aware that to look at him sitting in the tub at all meant that certain parts of his anatomy were unavoidable to your gaze. 

You stared.

You didn't mean to, really. You just happened to be watching him as he settled into the water and then it just happened to turn out that with no bubbles or other such thing to provide cover the water left everything on display. And certain things were very much worth displaying.

Loki cleared his throat. You looked back up at his face with heated cheeks.

"I wasn't staring," you said.

"Of course not," his disbelief was clear in his tone. Rather than take offence, he took the chance to openly ogle you right back. He held his arms out. "Are you coming in?"

"How do you want to do this? Do you want me to sit on the other side?"

He spread his legs, gesturing at the space between them. "I want you right here."

Of course he did.

"You may sit on the other side, if that is what you wish."

You clambered into the tub, planting your naked bottom between his naked legs and tried to ignore the feeling of other naked parts of him pressing against you. He lifted his hands from the water, letting them rest on your shoulders for a moment, then dragged them lazily down once again, rivulets dripping down your arms in his fingers’ wake.

“May I?” He asked.

You nodded, a fleeting thought going through your mind that you didn’t know what he was asking to do, that ince again he was bending his own rule by asking you for something rather than waiting for you to ask. Another thought overtook it, this one telling you that it didn’t matter what he was asking for—whether it was because it provided a distraction from the lingering fear the rest of the night caused or your own unadulterated desire for him in whatever way he would have you, you were uncertain. What you were certain of was this: you would let him do whatever he asked tonight.

He did not leave you in suspense for very long. Loki grabbed the hotel provided body wash from the side of the tub and sniffed it. To you, it smelled of nothing but soap. Inoffensive and clean, and apparently unsatisfactory to Loki’s godly senses because he threw the bottle across the room into the trash, and summoned another bottle from his interdimensional space pocket. When he opened this one, it smelled floral and light; it reminded you of sunshine and spring time, and for just a moment you imagined yourself lying in a field of flowers with the Asgardian sun on your face and Loki at your side, regaling you with the most exciting tales of what went on that day in his father’s court.

The rough texture of a washcloth against your skin brought you from the daydream. Loki started with your back. When he was finished there, he curled himself more firmly around you and raised one of your arms so you were reaching out to the other side of the tub. He used both of his hands to keep the washcloth wrapped around the width of your arm, and slowly, slowly stretched until he had brought the cloth down the whole length of your arm. His nose was pressed into your hair, mouth against your ear. His teeth grazed your skin. One of his hands rested atop yours, lacing your fingers together, engulfing your hand in his. His other hand set to work washing your other arm, taking up the same final position as their siblings on the opposite side. The washcloth was transferred into your hand, and Loki's hands remained on top of your own so that he could direct you to move how he wanted.

He curled your arms in, running the washcloth over your stomach.

"Where shall we wash next?" He asked, breath warm against your ear. He moved your twined hands so that they came just under the curve of your breast, then dipped back down again.

"Loki…" You groaned, a plea and warning in one breath.

He moved your hands lower, to your legs; made a joint effort out of washing your upper thighs, teasing at touching you more intimately, but never making a true move to do so. You were certain he only meant to tease you as he had been doing throughout the night; never taking more liberties than he was explicitly allowed, but making his interest known in the most mischievous way he could think of. It all felt a little bit like a test to you.

So you decided to make your answer a bold one.

You brought the still connected hands that weren’t preoccupied with washing your legs to slide up your body, stopping only when you reached your breast. With your hand underneath his, Loki barely touched you. Still, you felt his chest stutter against your back when his breath caught in his throat. He nipped at your ear.

"Just what do you think you're doing, little wife?" He asked.

"Making myself feel good," you responded, snaking the hands at your legs between your thighs.

"As I recall," he squeezed your hands underneath his, at once trying to feel more of you and keep himself under control. "You requested a first date before we did this."

"I said I wanted a first date before you married me," you corrected. "I didn't say anything about a date before you fucked me."

“And is that what you want me to do?"

Your fingers and his brushed through the curls between your legs. The washcloth floated away to the other side of the bath, forgotten. He kissed the space behind your ear, then under, and lower still, only stopping his descent when he'd kissed his way down your neck to your shoulder. Your nerves tingled under his lips and you knew you could find yourself addicted to the feeling if you were not careful. His fingers brushed against what skin they could immediately reach with your hand obstructing his access. You felt certain that if he wanted to, his fingers were long enough that he could stretch them and feel far more. The restraint was frustrating.

But you found that between soft sighs of his name and pleased moans you could not vocalize a response to his question.

Your head fell back against his shoulder. He took the opportunity this afforded him to catch your lips with his. It was barely a brush of his lips against yours, so gentle you would have thought it was an accident were it not for the fact that the way he had to lean over to even reach your mouth could only be achieved with purposeful maneuvering. It rankled at your anxiety.  _ Gentle _ was not what you needed just then.  _ Gentle  _ would not keep your thoughts from straying to the rest of the night and what still awaited you in the morning. You sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulled at it until he snarled and pushed his mouth harder against yours, his tongue darting out to slide against your own.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he said, yet did not wait for you to respond before kissing you again.

You raised one hand to grip his hair, wanting to bring him close enough that you could devour him. It was not lost on either of you, of course, that the hand now in Loki's hair was the one that had been between your legs and with the repositioning of your hand, his own was free to touch where it liked. 

And yet…

“You still haven’t answered me, little wife,” he said against your lips. He lifted his hand so that it no longer touched you at all. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

“I thought I made myself pretty clear,” you groaned, lifting your hips in an unsuccessful attempt to get him to put his hand back between your thighs.

“But I want to hear you say it.” 

"You’re so frustrating," you said.

"I am only ensuring I keep my promise," he said.

"Your promise… so if I ask you to fuck me, you will?"

Loki brushed his nose against your chin and hummed as a response. His free hand wiggled it's way underneath you to give your backside a firm squeeze; you laughed into his mouth, which in turn allowed him to slide his tongue against yours, once again distracting you from asking the desired question with a kiss.

You were still laughing when he pulled away. 

"Loki, would you please fuck me?" You grinned up at him. 

He squeezed your butt again, and said, "It would be my honor, little wife."

His hand took its place between your thighs once more; this time, he wasted no time sinking his fingers into you, slow and deep. Your breath caught in your throat as he moved, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside of you both for the unfamiliarity of it and for the pleasure you were already feeling. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you rocked your hips in time with the movement. Your hand still at your breast fell away to join your other hand in tugging at Loki's hair. This new access to your body he used to enhance your pleasure, too; he kneaded your breast in his hand, messaging and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth and lips busied themselves at your throat, biting and sucking and doing all they could to ensure there would be a sizable mark later on.

Each breath brought a wave of heat coursing through your body; you could burn up here, you thought, burn right up and never even feel it through the pleasure Loki was giving you. With all of the sensation overtaking your body, you didn’t last very long. You came with Loki’s name on your lips, white light bursting behind your eyes.

Your mind just… floated for a bit after that. You found yourself stuck in a state of dazed pleasure that your body was in no hurry to leave, so you leaned against Loki and let yourself come slowly down from the high of your climax. Dimly, you were aware of Loki moving behind you. Washing himself, maybe, as the two of you had never gotten around to that before you’d distracted him.

"You know, you're just gonna get dirty again," you said. You could feel his erection pressed against your back, a reminder that the night was not over yet. You grinned up at him, wiggling back against him to illustrate your point.

"I'm counting on it," he said, returning your grin. "I wanted to give you a bit of time to recover."

He stood then, seeming to feel that if you were recovered enough to speak, you were recovered enough to continue the night’s activities. He lifted you as he rose, like you weighed nothing at all, and you wrapped your arms around his neck with a grin.

"My strong, handsome husband," you teased, kissing him on the cheek.

You couldn't be certain what those words inspired in him, but a low growl rumbled in his chest and he kissed you with such force that you knew if you had been standing, your knees would have gone weak and you would have been knocked over. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, bit and licked until you were breathless and panting. You squirmed in his grasp, anticipation coursing through your veins as surely as your blood. Minutes had passed since he brought you to completion the first time; you needed him inside of you again, needed all of him this time, and you needed him now.

You shivered when he dropped you onto the bed. The sheets were too cool against your heated skin and you pulled Loki's body against yours to absorb the heat of his skin into you. He buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. His erection brushed against you, slipped through your arousal, teasing at entering you fully, but denying that which you so dearly craved.

"Fuck me," you whispered.

He groaned. He wrapped his arms around you, but still did not give in to your desires.

"Are you real?" He asked.

You kissed him. It was soft and sweet and he went so weak against you that you were able to flip your position, so that you straddled his hips and he laid squirming underneath you.

"I am real," you said. "And I'll prove it to you."

He grinned. You grinned back. And without a moment more of hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, more than ready for a proper fucking. 

You moved slowly at first, needing to get used to the size and feel of him inside of you, and he respected that. His fingers gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, but he did not rush you or pressure you into moving at any pace other than the one you dictated. He moved back a little, so that he could prop himself up on the headboard and pull you close once again, ensuring there was no space between you. He rested his forehead at the crook of your neck and you buried your nose in his hair. 

"I will protect you," he said into your skin. "No matter what happens, I will protect what's mine."

And those words encouraged you to quicken your pace; to take him deeper and rougher. You wanted to bring him so far into your body that it would be impossible to tell where he began and you ended. You cursed and praised his name in the same breath, dug your nails into the skin of his back until he bled. When you came, you came together, with tears forming at the corners of your eyes, and Loki stealing your breath with a kiss.

You collapsed onto the bed together. You sprawled out on top of him and he wrapped an arm around you, tracing patterns into your skin. Neither of you said anything more that night. You basked in the warmth of each other's presence, in the post-coital contentment that seeped through your bodies. You fell asleep to the sound of Loki's breathing and the feeling of his skin against yours and as your mind descended into sleep, you felt truly happy for the first time that night.

* * *

You woke up before Loki early the next morning. You were sore and aching in places, and you stretched, enjoying the feeling of having worked out muscles that didn't get much use in your day to day life. Your lingering contentment from the night before kept you in bed for a few more minutes. You watched Loki breath and enjoyed the lines of his face in a moment of peacefulness.

It pleased you that he did not seem to be having a nightmare. He told you once, months ago now, that his sleep was almost always plagued with terrifying memories of the Mad Titan Thanos, or images of all the different ways he could have saved his mother, or worse, reenactments of his murder of Laufey, tinged with a guilt so potent, yet hidden so deep within his psyche that he could not recognize or fight against it until he finally woke so sick with it that he spent the better part of the morning losing what little bit there was in his stomach by that point. You kissed his forehead, and tried to relax in his arms a little more, but soon found that your anxiety over the coming day was growing too strong for you to stay idle.

By the time Loki woke up, you were nearly ready for the day. The only thing missing was your jewelry, which was still where you left it in the bathroom last night.

"Robert Laing is truly a fortunate man to wake up to a sight like this every morning," Loki said. His voice was raspy with sleep. The sound of it sent your mind reeling with thoughts you knew there was no time to act on just then.

"Yeah, well, don't feel too jealous of Laing. Once today is done and I give these dresses back to Ms. Potts there's no way I'll ever have the money to dress like this again." 

"Once today is done, my dear, you will no longer be the wife of a mortal doctor, but the lover of a God, king, and prince. There will be nothing outside of your reach," he kissed your neck, just above one of the concealed marks he left last night.

"Technically, you're not a king right now. You just have a claim to an unoccupied throne," you rolled your eyes. 

He just grinned that mischievous grin of his.

"You're imagining trying to take over a planet again, aren't you? I swear, Loki, you're incorrigible. You're supposed to be making up for the last time you tried to take over a planet, remember? Not planning to do it again somewhere else."

"Are you saying you don't—"

Where ever that conversation was going, you would apparently not find out. A knock at the front door of the hotel suite cut off Loki's question and you both looked in that direction with mirroring expressions of confusion.

"You go get dressed," you said. "I'll get the door."

You were somewhat surprised that Loki put up no resistance. But he nodded and turned towards the closet and you left the room to see who could possibly be knocking.

Through the peephole, you saw Peter and Ilene Woodard waiting for you to open the door. You took a breath. Then another. Then you opened the door.

"Peter, Ilene, what a surprise," you said, forcing as much cheerfulness into your voice as you could manage. "What brings you here?"

_ And how the hell did you know where to find us _ , you thought.

Neither of them smiled. In fact, they both had rather grim expressions on their face. Peter looked around at the room behind you.

"Is Robert here?" He asked, as though you hadn't said a word.

"No, I'm afraid he went out for a bit before today's festivities," you lied, praying to a certain God of Lies that some of his talent had rubbed off on you and that it was enough to get them to go away.

"Good, good," Peter said, taking a step into the suite. "This will be easier if he isn't around."

On instinct, you took a step back. Ilene gestured to someone in the hall and then followed Peter into the suite, taking advantage of the room your back step left them to keep the doorway open.

"What's going on?" Your voice shook.

"We were hoping you could answer that for us, Mrs. Laing. You see, my wife recognized you last night. Said that she had seen an ad for your catering company a few years back. But you were supposedly living in London at that time, weren't you?" Peter said, taking another step closer.

You took another step back. Behind Peter and Ilene, two armed men entered the suite.

"There must be some misunderstanding. What reason would Robert and I have for lying about something like that?"

"That's what I thought at first, but my Ilene was convinced. So we did some research. Do you know what we found,  _ Mrs. Laing _ ?" The emphasis he put on the name told you that they'd found your real name, for one thing. And if they found your real name, then they were probably able to find…

"You work for the Avengers," a voice said from behind the armed men. Christoph Rohr walked into the room. You took another step back. The group circled you. "Now, that in and of itself isn't so bad. Hydra can always use people on the inside."

Two more armed men made their way into the room and took places on either side of Rohr. One of their elbows brushed against Rohr and he turned from you and sneered at the guard before turning his attention back to you. Where in the world was Loki?

"But to be a Jew? We have no need for your kind in our organization." The two original guards closed in on you, each grabbing hold of one of your arms while maintaining their grip on their guns. "We do, however, have a need to get rid of any potential threats. So, since you are so interested in Hydra, you'll be taking a trip with us to one of our facilities while Peter and Ilene wait for your lovely husband to return. We wouldn't want to leave him out of the fun, would we?" 

The guards holding on to you began dragging you out of the room. You struggled against them, trying to rip your arms out of their hold, and digging your heels into the carpet, but it had no effect. You worked for the Avengers, but you didn't have anywhere near the strength of one. 

"Let go, you shits!" You yelled, figuring that if you couldn't break free of them, you could at least be loud enough that a certain someone would know it was time to come out and help now.

"Don't make too much of a fuss, please. It would be a hassle if we had to knock you out, but we will do it if necessary."

"I'm not going to make it easy for you to kidnap and kill me!" 

Two thuds came from somewhere farther in the room. You barely heard them over the sounds of your own struggle and the guards dragging you along didn't seem to notice at all. They nearly had you out of the room when a shout and gunshot finally caught their attention enough for them to let you go.

But the moment they turned to investigate they both got a knife to the heart. Over by one of the couches, Peter and Ilene sat slumped with identical knives stabbed through their chests. Two Lokis stood above the bodies, looking remarkably relaxed given the situation. Another one of the guards was on the floor, a bullet hole in his thigh. Your knees gave out.

"I'm afraid I can't let you take my wife," the guard that had brushed against Rohr said in Loki's voice. The facade of the guard fell away and yet another Loki stood between Rohr and you. "I've grown rather fond of her, you see, and I don't share well."

You watched the two men face off. You felt oddly numb to what was happening at the moment. It felt like you should have been disgusted by the dead bodies littering the room. It felt like you should have still been frightened by your attempted kidnapping by Nazis. It felt like something more should have been happening. But as you sat on the floor between the two dead bodies of the guards that had been dragging you, you felt nothing more than moderate gratitude for Loki finally showing up.

Rohr glanced at the doorway, then back to Loki. Neither of them said anything. It was… boring, if you were being honest. Rohr was a high ranking Hydra member, but he was old. And he clearly knew who Loki was. He didn't stand a chance in a fight. The only question was if Loki would let him run away. 

The answer, of course, was no. 

Rohr managed to take one step towards the door before a portal opened up below him. As he fell into that one, another portal opened on the roof, parallel to the one on the floor. A few seconds after Rohr fell into the bottom portal, he came out of the top portal, and fell into the bottom one all over again. The cycle repeated for a few minutes, you and Loki just watching as he went in one and out the other over and over again.

"Hey, Loki?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What are we going to tell Steve and Tony about this mission?"

"I have already informed them that we have acquired a Nazi for you to punch and all of the information they were looking for. They should be here shortly."

"Right… Loki?"

"Hmm?"

You stood, stretching to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for saving me from Hydra. You're a good husband."

He wrapped an arm around your waist. The green light of his magic shimmered over him and a fresh suit took the place of the one he'd worn while dealing with Hydra. He did the same with your dress.

"As I recall, you requested a date before our real marriage. Shall we begin now?"

You knew you should have said no, what with Steve and Tony on the way to help deal with the clean up, but… 

"Take me out, Mischief. I'm all yours."

**Author's Note:**

> This ending was not the ending I had originally planned, but when I went to write my originally planned ending, I found that it was making me too uncomfortable. So I improvised with this ending. I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with it, but I've been working on this one fic for three months and I just want to post it now so that's what I'm doing. Hopefully it's still decent with this ending! Also I made a small playlist based on this fic. Give it a listen: [dinner and diatribes playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2znOvV38ZO6kQRxY3NRSDG)


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